tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1851773778308638752024-03-05T06:47:40.846+01:00Paris AdèleFrom Paris with Love.
Just a little travel bug, sharing my stories, adventures, tips, and secrets, from the beautiful city of lights and love.
Discover what I see, eat, smell, hear and photograph.
Come along on the journey and enjoy the ride.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-91897024432283732472012-09-17T11:58:00.000+02:002012-09-17T11:58:53.317+02:00I HAVE MOVED - COME WITH MEHello there
I have moved after over 8000 hits it is time to move on. Something strange has happened to my lovely blog and I can't seem to bring it back.
But that is OK - I have now moved to my own domain. Come with me & follow me there, it is new fresh, easier to use and still has all the information this blog has. Just is a nicer format.
here is the link <a href="http://parisadele.com/">Paris Adele</a>
http://parisadele.com/
see you there!
Paris AdeleUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-82003244478315822492012-01-30T12:40:00.000+01:002012-01-30T12:40:13.055+01:00A Month In Paris, to Remember<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After a 20 hour flight and a four hour stop over, Paris seems so far away now and I miss it.<br />
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Last year was horrendous. Filled with tremendous pain and betrayal, I took my broken heart and what I called; my heart on my sleeve, to Paris. <br />
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Hoping she could help me mend it. <br />
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In some respects she did, for a while.<br />
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However, once again, the gloom filled my heart and mind. That is when I booked my next trip to Paris, eight months in advance.<br />
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I knew this trip would be different from last year. <br />
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A somewhat sad, but much lighter, confident, happier me, arrived in Paris this time.<br />
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Staying in a different <a href="http://www.parisfurnishedapartments.com/Accommodations/Verrerie/verrerie.html">apartment</a>, in my favourite area, Le Marais, seemed right. Arriving with luggage, this year, as opposed to none last year and my head in a different place, was a good beginning.<br />
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After spending a month, in Paris, on my way to Charles de Gaulle, receiving texts and phone calls wishing me a bon voyage along the way, I recognised streets, knowing exactly where I was, I felt like I was leaving a lover behind and, in a way, I guess I was. <br />
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She holds my secrets close to her heart, opens her arms and welcomes me with love and safety. Treats me with respect. A respect, I wondered; existed anymore.<br />
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With so many things I wanted to do, places to visit, restaurants to eat in, trips to take; I have an overwhelming feeling I didn't achieve much.<br />
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Late dinners and late nights, seemed to be the norm. Then I pondered, did I waste my time ....</div>
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It all seemed a blur. </div>
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Until, one night, not long before I left Paris, I read my blog. With tears in my eyes, I remembered; beautiful, funny, fun-filled memories.</div>
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For the first time in my life; I attended a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixsEamA8mBM">rock concert</a>, on my own, and didn't regret it. <br />
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Sat in a red, velvet box, at the <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-eve-in-paris.html">Palais Garnier</a> to watch the ballet. Got the same seat, as last year, at the <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/12/paris-is-photogenic-in-any-weather.html">Chatelet Theatre</a> and was entertained by the Sound of Music. <br />
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Discovered some new wonderful restaurants, met a kind gentle, man, some lovely people and cemented relationships.<br />
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Went out of town to visit a closed <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2012/01/do-bad-things-really-happen-in-threes.html">Chateau</a>. <br />
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Took a day trip to <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2012/01/london-calling.html">London</a> to buy shoes.<br />
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Discovered a <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2012/01/aimless.html">Parisian cellar and met some Parisian mice</a>.<br />
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Visited, every one, of the 20 arrondissements. <br />
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Explored passageways, visited churches, cathedrals and a museum full of <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/12/in-city-that-doesnt-seem-to-have-too.html">stuffed animals</a>.<br />
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Experienced wonderful and <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-love-sundays-in-paris.html">confronting museums</a>.<br />
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Learned how to french a bone and make a jus at, no other, than <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2012/01/amuse-bouche.html">Le Cordon Bleu</a>.<br />
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Attended my sixth dinner, at <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/12/sunday-dinner-at-jim-haynes.html">Jim Haynes</a>. <br />
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Attended <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/12/three-books-and-funeral.html">George Whitman's funeral</a> at <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/01/discovering-20th-arrondissement.html">Pere Lachaise Cemetery</a>.<br />
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On a cold late night, snuggled with a <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2012/01/saturday-stroll-in-paris.html">dog</a>, in a bistro.<br />
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Shopped till I dropped, jostled with the crowds to admire the <a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/12/9th-arrondissement.html">Christmas windows</a> at <a href="http://www.galerieslafayette.com/">Galleries Lafayette</a>.<br />
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Admired, in awe, the beautiful monuments and buildings, that now seem so familiar. <br />
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Walked for miles, visited markets, ate tete de veau for the first time, in a wonderfully, typical French restaurant and discovered more about myself.<br />
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Now, after complaining about my local homeless man, ranting and raving under my window and singing at the top of his voice on my street; I miss him.<br />
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Even more importantly, I once again stood on the small gold disc, in front of the Notre Dame, that has become a ritual for me, and assures me I will return.<br />
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Just when I think I know Paris, she offers me, even more wonderful surprises.<br />
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a bientot ...<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-46331476801084710832012-01-24T10:46:00.000+01:002012-01-24T10:46:31.110+01:00More Street Art In Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-16524307113119900732012-01-17T12:53:00.000+01:002012-01-23T12:38:18.876+01:00Street Art In Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-19178053845433105002012-01-15T08:10:00.000+01:002012-01-20T11:02:38.360+01:00My Last Sunday in Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Leaving Paris is always upsetting and never easy for me.</div>
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Feeling lost, walking along the left bank of the Seine, a tight knot was developing in my stomach, as the feeling of dread and melancholy swept over me.</div>
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Last night, in the company of a lovely Parisian, sipping Beaujolais in the courtyard of the Louvre, with a cellist playing in the background, the tears, started welling up in my eyes. This was a familiar sign, there was no controlling the emotions, when it gets to this stage of my visit.<br />
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This is my last full day in Paris.<br />
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Even although it was -2 degrees, it was a beautiful bright sunny day and wanting to make good use of the light to take a few parting photos, passing by some favourite landmarks along the way, I headed for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pont_Alexandre_III">Pont Alexandre III, </a>one of my favourite bridges.<br />
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As I walk, I wonder; would've it been better to fly out in the afternoon, that way I would have another half day, but then I did have the whole Sunday. There is no escaping it, either way, it was almost time to leave.<br />
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<br />
Being Sunday, at least that meant, I could have dinner at Jim Hayne's, and what better way to spend my last night in Paris<br />
<br />
Jim's warm welcome, and familiar surroundings brought more regret that I was leaving.<br />
<br />
I had to snap out of it and enjoy the moment. <br />
<br />
Yet another wonderful dinner. Tonight cassoulet seemed fitting, a good hearty French meal. His apartment jammed packed with people, as usual and his friends marvelling that they think I know Paris better than they.<br />
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Jim handing out, his famous <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qI-eVnith8">After Eight dinner mints</a> towards the end of the evening, was a signal the night had nearly come to an end.<br />
<br />
I walked, as usual to the metro, with my mate JD., had a drink at the bistro near the metro, for old times sake and I was on my way.<br />
<br />
Feeling the need to suck the life out of Paris and with two and a half hours before my favourite bar closed, I popped into to say a goodbye to my friend Bouba.<br />
<br />
Saying goodbyes is the hardest. <br />
<br />
Bouba, reassures me I will be back next year, he knows I won't be able to stay away and Jim has already ordered me to start saving my pennies for next year.<br />
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Hopefully it isn't goodbye but just ... a bientot -<br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-21234638200637162132012-01-14T08:17:00.000+01:002012-01-18T08:52:54.052+01:00Amuse Bouche<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
When I woke this morning, I was clutching my mobile phone and it took me a few seconds to work out why. I needed to be up early this morning and somehow I must have turned off the alarm in my sleep and slept in.<br />
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Throwing around a lot of expletives, pacing around in circles, I decided I was going to go anyway, late or not I was not missing out on this very special day, one I had been looking forward to.<br />
<br />
Running to the metro I tried to call them, panting, leaving a desperate and probably unfathomable message in French. I arrived 1 hour late to locked doors. I rang the bell, banged on the door, nothing.<br />
<br />
Just when I was about to give up, I saw movement inside, desperately banging on the window, I got their attention. They unlocked the door and I entered, <a href="http://www.cordonbleu.edu/lcb-paris/en">Le Cordon Bleu Cooking School</a>.<br />
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Flustered, peeling off my scarf and coat, I was lead into the hot, demonstration room. Chef, wasn't going to let me slip in quietly. He said something I didn't quite understand, I offered an apology, the interpreter - translates, don't bother sitting down, we have almost finished. The room roared with laughter, he was cheeky. Sitting on the edge of my seat, glued to the mirrors and large screens that showed what he was cooking, I sighed; I made it.<br />
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Cooking for Friends was the programme.<br />
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With cheeky quips, anecdotes of when he was a young chef, a couple more prods at me, he whipped up a delicious three course meal, after a small tasting and a short break we were lead into a large kitchen.<br />
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Instructed to put our aprons on, hang our tea towel from our waist and say oui chef! <br />
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Now it was our turn to make the main course and see whether we had been paying attention.<br />
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We began washing the wonderful trumpet mushrooms, it is important this is done properly. Then we moved on to learning how to french the huge veal chop, we were each given and make a jus from the scraps and bones.<br />
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It was chaos at one point as we all quickly deglazed the pan, shouting out oui chef along the way and kept the french butter manufacturers in business.<br />
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As I strained my jus over the mushrooms, chef stood by my side, with his head cocked to one side and a nod of approvement, he stuck his finger in to taste, it's good he said with a huge grin on my face and a wiggle of my bum, I said proudly, I cooked this.<br />
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To finish we were all presented with a attendance certificate and sent downstairs to eat our creations.<br />
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I stepped out of the famous Le Cordon Bleu, cooking school with my left overs and nodded my head, that was an absolutely fantastic experience.<br />
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Rue de Rivoli was packed with Saturday shoppers, in search of a bargain, the sales are on. Maybe they had driven the homeless people away. I barely made a hole in the huge steak and nor did one of my colleagues, so I took his and my left overs, promising to pass it on to a homeless person.<br />
<br />
Where were all the homeless people when you need one.<br />
<br />
Finally I came across a woman - her sign read I am hungry. I approached, would you like something to eat, yes, she says, as I handed her the still warm food, I tried to explain, I cooked this at Le Cordon Bleu, I think it went over her head.<br />
<br />
With not one, but two pieces of meat that were the size of brontosaurus steaks, I hoped she may have a knife and fork, amongst her belongings. <br />
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Then as I walked away, I smiled, at least the veal chops have been expertly frenched, so she will have a nice clean bone to use as a handle, with a little skip in my step and a small giggle to myself, I thought, today she is probably the best fed homeless person in Paris, cooked at no other than Le Cordon Bleu.<br />
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What better way to finish off a wonderful day than to be invited to share a Parisian's favourite spot. With a bottle of Beaujolais, two plastic cups and a swiss army knife, we sat in the Cour de Carree, the courtyard of the old part of the Louvre, as luck would have it, a cellist was playing in the background. This brought tears to my eyes, I don't want to leave Paris. <br />
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Strolling around Paris in search of a nice restaurant that appealed to both of us, was a wonderful way to start saying goodbye to Paris. Finally we found a perfect, typically French restaurant, <a href="http://maps.google.com.au/maps/place?client=safari&rls=en&oe=UTF-8&redir_esc=&um=1&ie=UTF-8&q=le+barometre+paris&fb=1&gl=au&hq=le+barometre&hnear=0x47e66e1f06e2b70f:0x40b82c3688c9460,Paris,+France&cid=5209127589369883020">Le Barometre</a>. For the first time, I tried a traditional Parisian dish, tete de veau, veals head. <br />
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The concerned owner, wasn't sure if I knew what I was doing but in the company of a lovely Parisian, a day of culinary exploration and a dish I had been meaning to try, it just seemed like the right time and place to do it.<br />
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Paris is always full of surprises and new things to explore, this day was no exception but it was an exceptional day.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-16026253957730174222012-01-13T19:32:00.000+01:002012-01-17T02:33:25.808+01:00Friday the 13th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
My time in Paris is running out. I want to lie, face down on the apartment floor and bang my hands and feet in rage and scream I don't want to go. <br />
<br />
Une enfant, the French would call me, a child, but that is how I feel.<br />
<br />
Now that reality has hit, I need to start getting things in order, start packing up, send some items home by post, not that it will relieve my suitcase of much weight, contact the <a href="http://www.parisfurnishedapartments.com/">Paris Furnished Apartments</a> office to arrange an inspection of the apartment before I leave and be sad and miserable, after all it is Friday the 13th.<br />
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After posting a box home to myself, I decided to visit the office of Paris Furnished Apartments in person. Fanny was absolutely charming, as is Clement and the rest of the crew at the office, they are friendly, helpful and kind, maybe that is one of the reasons I keep renting apartments from them. As we chatted away, I offered a few of my Parisian tips, including the Hotel du Nord and was on my way.<br />
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Rather than being miserable and thinking of leaving, I decided to be in the moment and visit an exhibition after the chores were done. The wonderful thing about Paris is it never seems too late to head out and do something. Now it was time for Paris and me.<br />
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The <a href="http://www.grandpalais.fr/en/Homepage/p-617-lg1-Homepage.htm">Grand Palais</a> was offering an exhibition from the Stein family collection and in particular <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gertrude_Stein">Gertrude Stein</a>. Viewing some wonderful art by Picasso and Matisse and learning about her prolific collection and support of these artists and others, her salons and life in Paris was fascinating and well worth the visit.<br />
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When I left the exhibition, the cold night air hit me but I still decided to walk the 3kms home, I wanted to walk over the left bank via the magnificent <a href="http://www.google.fr/search?q=pont+alexandre+iii&hl=fr&client=safari&rls=en&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=FBoTT9unHoyZOv7C4YcD&ved=0CE0QsAQ&biw=1366&bih=614">Pont Alexandre III,</a> the Alexandre the 3rd bridge. Beautiful, gold, sparkling and ornate with a bird's eye view of the Grand Palais and the Eiffel tower, beaming golden against the night sky.<br />
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Wondering what I would do for dinner as I shivered along the banks of the Seine, I decided to say hi to my mates, the lovely, Camel and always bright and cheery Everest at <a href="http://www.cafeine.com/">L'etoile Manquante</a>, just two doors down from my favourite bar and around the corner from home. <br />
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<br />
Settling down into the warm bistro with a warm welcome, chatting away to Camel & Everest, I sat at the bar, tucked into to a lovely dinner with a couple of glasses of French red wine and tried not to think about leaving.<br />
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For the moment, I am still here in Paris, the city I love.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-6506076986552854052012-01-12T18:32:00.000+01:002012-01-15T18:46:08.879+01:00Food and Shopping in Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
When I arrived at <a href="http://www.galerieslafayette.com/">Galleries Lafayette</a>, to check out day two of the sales in Paris, it seemed more crowded than pre-Christmas shopping.<br />
<br />
All the Christmas decorations and wonderful animated displays had been removed and replaced with very lush window displays dedicated to Chanel.<br />
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If day two of the January sales in Paris was anything to gauge, I think I am glad I missed day one.<br />
<br />
The streets were packed, the stores even more so. Lining up to try something on was painstaking but worth it. Some offering more than 50% off. <br />
<br />
There was only so much I could take, so decided to leave the department stores and head for individual shops which made for a more relaxed shopping experience.<br />
<br />
Thankfully I had to go out to dinner tonight, which curtailed me from doing too much more damage to the credit card. <br />
<br />
Emilie was already waiting by the time I arrived at <a href="http://www.hoteldunord.org/english.html">Hotel du Nord</a>, a place I had discovered a while back and was really looking forward to checking out, sitting on the banks of Canal Saint-Martin and not far from Republique<br />
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Both of us loved the food, surroundings, staff and atmosphere.<br />
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The <a href="http://www.hoteldunord.org/english.html">Hotel du Nord</a> has a rich and wonderful past, first opening in 1885, as a restaurant and later in the 70's it became a charming hotel, in 1993 it was listed and re-opened as a restaurant once again. Even a movie was made here, in the 30's and after that, both the film and the hotel became famous. Now it is once again a restaurant,<br />
<br />
Leaving the streets of Paris, I entered through the heavy red velvet drapes and into a room full of ambience. <br />
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What I discovered inside was murals, and metro tiles on the walls, original old floor tiles and interesting memorabilia dotted around. Even although it is large, there is a warm cosy feeling, that instantly makes you feel relaxed and welcome, with a quite hum of conversation that is the French.<br />
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The waiter is funny and very flirtatious, which adds to the charm and vibe about the place. Fiddling with my hair, raising his eyebrows with a cheeky grin, each time he passed by, made for a really fun night.<br />
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The food was amazing, the creamiest polenta I have ever had with a wonderful duck and sauce, was simple but divine.<br />
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As Emilie and I walked arm in arm to the metro, raving about what a wonderful place it was, it was sad to be saying goodbye and not having the chance to eat with her there once again before I leave Paris.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-12618838471912640432012-01-11T03:07:00.000+01:002012-01-15T18:38:09.496+01:00London Calling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I heard the unfamiliar sound of the alarm this morning, I almost had to peel myself from the bedroom ceiling.<br />
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Then, I remembered, I had to get up early today. A small adventure was awaiting me.<br />
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Living in Australia and receiving email updates from my favourite shoe shop in London is a big tease. Furthermore, emails about their sales is just downright mean but when in Paris, what does a girl do?<br />
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She jumps on the Eurostar and heads for London and that is what I did.<br />
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When I left the apartment and walked up rue de Rivoli, at 7am, it was still dark.<br />
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However, the streets were buzzing with early morning commuters, ducking in to to buy a pain au chocolat on the way to work. The shop windows had changed over night, now displaying large 'soldes' signs, introducing the first day of the sales in Paris. <br />
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Shop staff were already at work, tagging the last items and waiting for the onslaught of bargain hunters.<br />
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Not being in Paris for the first day of the sales was either a smart idea or a big mistake, either way, it seemed I wasn't the only person heading under the Channel to pick up a few bargains.<br />
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Arriving in London, the culture shock was palpable. Within two hours, I was thrown into a completely different atmosphere.<br />
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The streets were busy and the familiar, yet unfamiliar sound of English felt strange. At times, I wasn't so sure I wanted to hear what I did.<br />
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It was a bright sunny day and instead of catching the Tube, I decided to walk and digest my surroundings. <br />
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Heading in the general direction of Carnaby Street, until my surroundings became familiar, I soaked it all up.<br />
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London seems to be under construction and I guess, with the upcoming Olympics, maybe that is the reason, so much work going on.<br />
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Walking down Oxford Street brought back memories of the chaos of the street and rue de Rivoli, seemed tame in comparison. <br />
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As I strolled the streets of London, heading for my favourite shoe shop, a feeling of dread filled my body. <br />
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I have no British Pounds, what if they don't take American Express, which is more than likely, my only funds are on a card and I had forgotten my pin number.<br />
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Could it be possible, I would be in London for a whole day, to visit my favourite shoe store and have no money? <br />
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Brazenly, I entered <a href="http://www.irregularchoice.com/">Irregular Choice</a>, my shoe store of choice and pleaded; tell me, you take American Express. As if it was a symphony, all four shop attendants said ... no. <br />
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Not to worry, there is an ATM nearby, they offered. What they didn't understand, how far I had come, without a pin number. Wracking my brain, using my calculator keypad to try to recall the number, finally it came to me!<br />
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Almost running up Carnaby Street with a fist full of pounds, I re-entered the store and exclaimed - I have money, now I am going to shop!<br />
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Bouncing down Carnaby Street with two pairs of fabulous shoes, now what to do...<br />
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Wander is what I did, visiting old familiar haunts, while snapping up a few bargains along the way.<br />
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Hauser & Wirth in Saville Row had a fabulous exhibition of <a href="http://www.hauserwirth.com/artists/20/paul-mccarthy/biography/">Paul McCarthy's</a> installations. This controversial, yet very thought provoking exhibition set over two galleries and a park was something I am glad I had the opportunity to see.<br />
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His <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7psNOxRE-HA">Train, Mechanical sculpture</a>, is something quite amazing, at times funny and yet disturbing. I was transfixed for quite sometime, the more I observed the more detail I noticed. <br />
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Sensors located in the eyes of the George Bush heads, noted when I moved and followed me around the room. When I asked the attendant, was the squealing pig noises coming from the installation intentional or a mistake, he was unsure, either way it added to the captivating piece.<br />
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When I decided to make this one day tour, I wondered how I would fill the day. <br />
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After wandering around and shopping until my arms could barely carry the goods anymore and taking in the great exhibition, my time had nearly run out.<br />
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With a couple of hours left, I caught the tube to Notting Hill and sat in an English pub, sipped on a couple of glasses of wine and it was time to get back on the Eurostar, bound for Paris.<br />
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As I hit the late night streets of Paris, I took a deep breath and was glad to be home again, amongst familiar surroundings.<br />
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My local store was open and thought I would pop in for a quick hello, the shoppings bags were taking their toll on my arms and I needed to collapse. <br />
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This of course, did not happen, invitations of champagne were flowing and questions about London, found me down in the cellar, less the mice and with some new founded friends practicing my French.<br />
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When London calls - you must listen and obey ..... <br />
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I did.<br />
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<br />
last quip;<br />
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who said books were going out of fashion<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-16993779193482136302012-01-10T02:46:00.000+01:002012-01-15T18:39:47.052+01:00LBS - A Little Black Skirt<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAlSkpHcs65vIlXwP-9mDZOW9EdeAP8vKaGDMD1yiIB3td48HgyjtNVIkOIMbe9hi0THY_xVQm3PyEHDGj6wP5oXOcRZFqsCr8X3AmOih54COlwbzNwTcC0JGuQfUVRoleooJvAyJccnc/s1600/IMG_1747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAlSkpHcs65vIlXwP-9mDZOW9EdeAP8vKaGDMD1yiIB3td48HgyjtNVIkOIMbe9hi0THY_xVQm3PyEHDGj6wP5oXOcRZFqsCr8X3AmOih54COlwbzNwTcC0JGuQfUVRoleooJvAyJccnc/s640/IMG_1747.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street Art Paris</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Tomorrow the sales start in Paris.<br />
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I did what any smart Parisienne shopper would do, I started looking around, trying on clothes in advance, for the big day. This way, once the prices are reduced, all I need do, is pluck the desired items from the racks, with no need to line up for dressing rooms. Clever?<br />
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BHV the big department store, located dangerously close to my apartment, had colour coded spots on most of the clothing. <br />
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After asking what they represented, I was told the different colours signify varying degrees of discounts. To my surprise, it appeared the sales had started a day earlier at my local and I could feel a frenzy approaching!<br />
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Trying to cull what to to buy was difficult. Finally I narrowed it down, did a rough calculation and beads of sweat started appearing on my forehead, I asked myself, can my credit card take this?<br />
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Lining up at the check out, a little too excited and armed with a mountain of clothes, I waited.<br />
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It was then, the system was explained to me properly. If I have a BHV loyalty card, I am able to receive the discounts today.<br />
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The frenzy turned into disappointment, the huge smile dropped from my face and I had to decide whether to buy now or later. Hoping all the items I had chosen would be there tomorrow, when the sale starts for non BHV members, I left with only one item. <br />
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At least now, I didn't have to make a major decision; what new purchase I was going to wear for my dinner date tonight. The decision was narrowed down to one little black skirt.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2YOV7owsg-QugauF8UVOwUezLYic4_sg5aJjwsEaMnRmy4igqQziqx0CF5P_MY_X9PjpED8lQuGrpEvx2ukUgG0Rkv4s7PSC-8aOd7jBpW4T2lIFfaRlrHrwZz4hJT6GMHacoP7ztpo/s1600/IMG_1381.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2YOV7owsg-QugauF8UVOwUezLYic4_sg5aJjwsEaMnRmy4igqQziqx0CF5P_MY_X9PjpED8lQuGrpEvx2ukUgG0Rkv4s7PSC-8aOd7jBpW4T2lIFfaRlrHrwZz4hJT6GMHacoP7ztpo/s640/IMG_1381.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Auberge Nicolas Flamel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Last Sunday, when <a href="http://www.jim-haynes.com/">Jim</a> introduced me to a journalist; an intelligent, tall, charming, handsome man, I had no idea, this would develop into a lovely dinner at a place I had been wanting to go to; <a href="http://www.auberge-nicolas-flamel.fr/Accueil_du_site.php">Auberge Nicolas Flamel</a>.<br />
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A restaurant, located in what they claim, to be the oldest building in Paris, I am still a little confused. For memory, there are three. They all claim to be the oldest in Paris. <br />
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In a quaint building, steeped in history, with an attentive waiter, dining on scallops resting on a wonderful sauce, sipping on a fine Beaujolais, topped with interesting conversation, did it matter that I was a day short of the sales?<br />
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I may not have picked up a bargain today but what I did have was a lovely night , feeling wonderful in my new pretty skirt, in a restaurant, I was hoping to dine in, with great company.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-26549029689563285682012-01-08T13:34:00.001+01:002012-01-10T19:51:53.197+01:00Sunday Means Market Day & Dinner at Jim's<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I woke to the sound of shopping trolleys, from the apartment above and the street below. Sunday is market day.<br />
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Jumping out of bed, I walked to the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZZ1UhArJLg">Bastille Markets</a>. <br />
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It is difficult not to get caught up in the excitement, as shoppers, rugged up against the cold, with shopping trolleys and dogs in tow go about their Sunday shopping. A strangely dressed band, belted out music which added to the atmosphere, the place was pumping and alive.<br />
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Hot, steamy vats of curries, choucroute, paella, fresh produce, cold meats from Spain, olives of every description from Italy, cheese from various regions of France, freshly baked bread.<br />
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It isn't difficult to see who sells some of the best produce, one fresh meat stand had a queue, almost as long as the market itself.<br />
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The vendors calling out selling their wares, happy they won't have to take much home with them and shoppers delighting over the vast, marvellous array of food on display and on offer.<br />
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Walking home, with a spring in my step, carrying my bag full of delicious food, I felt like a local.<br />
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Dropping in for a quick hot chocolate at Petit Fer a Cheval, brought another great Parisian moment. I have mentioned before, sometimes you just have to be in the right place at the right time.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Petit fer a Cheval detail - old absinthe server, now used for water. </td></tr>
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Not far from the bar a large crowd had gathered around. My friend Bouba called grab your camera and see what all the excitement was about. <br />
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A young woman, standing on a pedestal, flanked my two young men, acting as guards. She was dressed in nothing but a pair of underpants, electric green stilettos and a dress made from notes that were rapidly disappearing. <br />
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They filmed the artistic project, as passersby, without coercion, took a note each from her 'dress'. Eventually she would stand naked on a box in the Marais. It certainly caught a lot of attention.<br />
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<a href="http://www.bercyvillage.com/Amenagement.html">Bercy Village</a> was the next destination for the day. The closest metro is named after the wine, Saint Emilion, which is one of my favourite French wines. <br />
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Before the redevelopment, wines arriving by train from the south of France were warehoused in the area. Now a vibrant 'village' of shops, restaurants and a large cinema complex with not a tourist in sight.<br />
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Rather than take the metro, I, of course walked. <br />
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I weaved my way through the large expanse of parkland, sitting on the right bank. A reasonably new footbridge, which connects the right bank to the National Library on the left, is aptly named the Simone de Beauvoir Bridge. It is the first out of the 37 bridges in Paris to be named after a woman. <br />
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It gives a birds eye view of the floating, Josephine Baker swimming pool.<br />
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The light was fading, it was getting late and it is Sunday, which means dinner at <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjGAJDO666g">Jim Haynes</a>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim Haynes</td></tr>
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As always an interesting crowd from around the world. I had the honour and pleasure of delivering dinner to wonderful Madame upstairs, tonight. Such a delightful woman, I wanted to bundle her up and take her home with me.<br />
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<a href="http://vimeo.com/user2456927">Seamus</a> served up a fabulous meal of moussaka, hummus, baba ghanouj, rice, feta cheese and dolmades.<br />
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Leaving <a href="http://www.jim-haynes.com/">Jim's</a> with a fist full of email addresses, a promise of some French lessons and a couple of new friends in tow, we headed to Petit fer a Cheval. We drank and chatted until closing.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clock at Petit Fer a Cheval</td></tr>
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Finally it was time to say goodnight to another wonderful day in Paris. Always full of surprises and unexpected moments.<br />
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Is this taking Parisian style and comfort to the extremes? I spotted this at a bus stop on my wanders today!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, 'MS sans serif'; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-81968428837875160242012-01-07T21:42:00.000+01:002012-01-08T13:37:52.779+01:00A Saturday Stroll in Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After too many late nights, a lazy day yesterday and a fitful nights sleep of dreaming in French, mind you my French is no better in my sleep, than when I am awake, I needed the cool wind in my face and some exercise.<br />
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I needed to go to Gard du Nord today, so, as usual, I walked. There is always something new to discover and learn when you walk in Paris.<br />
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If you don't include <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grande_Arche">Le Grande Arche de la Defense</a>, the big modern arch with sweeping views from it's rooftop, there are four arches in Paris. <br />
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The most famous, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arc_de_Triomphe">Arc de Triomphe</a> and the <a href="http://www.google.fr/search?q=arc+de+carrousel&hl=fr&client=safari&rls=en&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=Z5YIT6SOLcyO4gSs_enPBw&ved=0CEcQsAQ&biw=1366&bih=612">Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel</a>, near the Louvre.<br />
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There are two other arches, considered portes or doors, which replaced gates into the city of Paris; <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Porte_Saint-Martin">Porte Saint-Martin</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Porte_Saint-Denis">Porte Saint-Denis.</a><br />
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Porte Saint-Denis is the only one I don't remember seeing. With this in mind I went to Gard du Nord via the door of Saint Denis.<br />
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What I stumbled across was a great Saturday Street market. I wanted to buy up the whole place, some stall holders had great prices and fabulous and unusual items for sale. Antiques, furniture, bric a brac, fur coats, wonderful old military leather caps, goggles and it went on. A great find!<br />
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Starting near the lovely old Rex Theatre and running along rue du Faubourg Poissonniere to the Porte Saint-Denis.<br />
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Rummaging around and resisting yet another fur coat or a container full of furniture, I ventured over to Gard du Nord. Grateful I had my trusty umbrella, the sky was grey and menacing, clouds were threatening rain but I need not worry - minutes later the sky changed from almost black to a brilliant bright blue!<br />
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Not far away is <a href="http://www.google.fr/search?q=arc+de+carrousel&hl=fr&client=safari&rls=en&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=Z5YIT6SOLcyO4gSs_enPBw&ved=0CEcQsAQ&biw=1366&bih=612#hl=fr&client=safari&rls=en&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=canal+saint-martin+paris&pbx=1&oq=canal+saint&aq=1&aqi=g7g-S3&aql=&gs_sm=c&gs_upl=1102470l1105989l0l1108148l11l11l0l2l2l0l184l1419l0.9l9l0&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.,cf.osb&fp=53e3ec5b384048e1&biw=1366&bih=612">Canal Saint Martin</a> and being Saturday, it is a nice place to be. <br />
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Families taking a stroll, a young boy, perhaps testing out his new Christmas present, a small power boat. Standing with his dad, on the banks of the canal clutching a remote control, he had it whizzing around the canal and scaring the life out of the ducks. It is such a pleasant area and so removed from the pumping heart of the city. Even more trendy places have popped up since I was there last.<br />
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I had to stop by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Place_de_la_R%C3%A9publique">Place de la Republique</a>, as it is undergoing a huge transformation, where it will soon be a big open space for pedestrians only, so I wanted to have once last look before it changes.<br />
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Strolling along, in the general direction towards home, I came across a church. As I passed I could see a recital inside, checking the poster outside, it was free. <br />
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Things I would never do at home, I entered took a load off and had a little listen. Beautiful. <br />
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There is always something going on in Paris and quite often free, you just have to be in the right place at the right time.<br />
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Late Thursday night, in a local bistro, I made a new friend ....<br />
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As the night got colder, we shared my coat!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-56082510366430813062012-01-05T05:35:00.001+01:002012-01-05T20:40:56.312+01:00Aimless<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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With so many plans and places to tick off, I'm exhausted, I left the apartment late, kicking myself I had missed such a lovely sunny day and walked around aimlessly.<br />
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Had a coffee at Petit fer a Cheval, my favourite bar in Paris and then just wandered, when I came across rue Volta, I remembered there was a half timbered house that claims, to also be, the oldest in Paris.<br />
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An Asian restaurant sits underneath and there was a huge line up to get in, food must be good. I weaved my way around the 4th and 3rd arrondissements, down tiny laneways and cobbled streets.<br />
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Popped into a great dress shop, <a href="http://www.lafeemaraboutee.fr/">La Fee Maraboutee</a>, that is having a temporary closing down sale, due to upcoming renovations. I couldn't resist buying a couple of items. The lady who works there was so patient with my French and made for a great shopping experience.<br />
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Meandering around the nooks, crannies and courtyards of Village St Paul, ducking in and out of the odd antique shop, I came across this cute antiques seller with a difference.<br />
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They sell all types of vintage, household, paraphernalia to do with sex. Not sure how my dinner guests would cope, clutching huge penises that were salt and pepper shakers they had on sale, I decided to leave them for some other lucky shopper.<br />
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Even although, Village St Paul was somewhere I wanted to explore, there was no set plan and I was having such a great day, doing nothing, just aimlessly wandering.<br />
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Somehow I found myself by the Seine, where the open spaces brought strong chilly winds but the buskers still managed to perform on the bridges and a newly wed couple braved the cold for their photos.<br />
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Crossing the bridge, I remembered I wanted to visit, the <a href="http://www.evene.fr/culture/lieux/memorial-des-martyrs-de-la-deportation-6465.php">Memorial des Martyrs de la Deportation</a>.<br />
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The light was fading as grey skies were forming, still aimlessly wandering but in the general direction of home, the rain started and it didn't look like it was going to let up, what to do. I didn't want to go home but I didn't want to have to put up with the rain, umbrella or not.<br />
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The <a href="http://www.centrepompidou.fr/">Pompidou Centre</a>, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the surrounding buildings sparked an idea.<br />
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Apart from the permanent collection, an Edvard Munch exhibition was on offer also, before I knew it, 5 hours had passed and it was nearly 9pm. closing time.<br />
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By the time I left the Pompidou Centre, I was starving and with my feet and back aching more so than after a 15 kilometre walk, a hearty meal was in order. <br />
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A warm welcome from the guys at Au Petit fer a Cheval and an offer to sit up at the bar, next to them, so we could chat, I tucked into a delicious meal and a couple of glasses of red wine. <br />
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Finishing with a coffee around 10.30pm they were surprised, I wasn't staying on. Bouba pumped up the music and encouraged me to have a quick dance before sending me on my way and offering me to return later, so we can dance some more. Peut-etre, perhaps, I said as I bounced down the street feeling absolutely great.<br />
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Thinking a reasonably early night could do me good, I never seem to get to bed before 1am, most nights, later. Paris wakes up late and stays up late and as I slowly think I am becoming a Parisienne, I seem to have adopted this lifestyle also.<br />
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Stopping at my local shop over the road to buy some milk and say a quick hello to Adele, the store owner, who insists on never charging me full price for anything. He offers we should have a New Years drink. What here, in the tiny shop! Is he mad? Well maybe, we stood in the shop with a plastic glass each, he cracks open a half bottle of lovely champagne and fills up our glasses.<br />
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His weird and wonderful, late night customers, wish me a bonsoir as they enter, as if the Aussie standing in the corner like a permanent fixture, with a plastic glass of French Champagne, was a local.<br />
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Many Parisian establishments have a cellar, watching bar staff disappear down a tiny hole in the floor, I have always been intrigued what lays beneath. Tonight I found out.<br />
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On our second bottle of champagne, half bottles, mind you, 12am seemed to arrive from nowhere. Popping in for a bottle of milk and an early night in mind, was obviously not going to happen this night, at least.<br />
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Adele, warns me to not be frightened but he must close the shop and I must stay, finish our champange. He pressed a button and the steel shutter descended across the front of the shop, locking us inside. A small flash of fear rippled over my body, wondering if this was a smart idea. We can go downstairs he says. <br />
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A mixture of uncertainty and intrigue to what lies below, had me unsure what to do. His kind offer of the champagne may not be as innocent as it appeared. Watch your tete, my head, he says as I descend the tiny stairs through the trap door in the floor, backwards, ladder style.<br />
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Staying in Paris forever, is a pie in the sky dream but to be kept by force, is not quite what I had in mind.<br />
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He had been ignoring his constantly ringing phone but this time he answered and once again, comforted me, don't be frightened. <br />
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He disappeared up the ladder and back into the shop. Leaving me in the cellar.<br />
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Stockholm Syndrome pops into my head, as I ask myself; what if he locks me in his cellar,<br />
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I scan the cellar, sharp knife, mirror, computer, cartons of merchandise, bottles of wine, food. At least I think, I have two sharp instruments to use if I need and there is food and wine. <br />
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A long minute or two passes before he returns with a friend. They play Berber music, it really is time to leave, this was nice but could get weird.<br />
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They are so nice, patient with my French, gently correcting me and offering to write it in my notepad, where I jot down, new words and phrases. They offer to crack open another bottle of champagne, I am torn, this is fun but slightly scary. Oh what the hell, what is the worse that could happen, I live in Paris for the rest of my life, just in a cellar, that is all.<br />
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When Adele pours my champagne but leaves it on the sink, date drug now pops into my head. I evaluate, ok - if for one moment, I feel slightly woozy, I live over the road, I must run up that ladder and get the hell out of there but how to operate the steel shutter. hmmm...<br />
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We take it in turns to select music on the computer, they teach me the phrase, it is your turn, we drink more champagne and I relax. They are nice people and are genuinely trying to make me feel welcome.<br />
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Amongst boxes of tomatoes and champagne, I think, they sense my slight fear.<br />
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Adele's friend works at the American Hot Dog Stand on the corner of rue de la Verrerie and rue Vieille du Temple, which actually has a reputation for really good hotdogs. He had to leave, he had a 5am flight in the morning, it was now past 2am.<br />
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Good time for me to exit also but he insists I stay. So far nothing has happened, I don't feel whoozy, I haven't been handcuffed to the stairs, so I elect to stay a couple of songs longer. <br />
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More conversation brings more confidence with my French, then, something caught my eye.<br />
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What was that I ask him in French, I think I haven't said it correctly. He shrugs his shoulders, I take it as miscommunication but I think he is avoiding the question.<br />
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There again. <br />
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A mouse. <br />
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It is normal in Paris, especially in the Marais he tells me, with his shoulders raised and a 'what is the problem' look on his face.<br />
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Brave and bold as can be, there he is again. I take my bag off the ground, for fear of taking him home with me but no, it is not one but two!<br />
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Perhaps he is right, there have been a few times, late at night or the early hours of the morning, I sit in my apartment, blogging and thought I saw something, movement and disregard the thought. <br />
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I am in Paris, not Australia where there always seems to be something scurrying around, a gecko, a spider, a possum but maybe I too have some Parisian friends living with me in my apartment.<br />
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The night had turned into the wee hours of the morning, our conversations had turned into learning more about our past and for me, so many bad unwanted memories were surfacing.<br />
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Memories of my ex-husband were much worse than the fear of being locked in a cellar in Paris with a carton of French champagne and a couple of mice.<br />
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It was time to go home. <br />
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Whether the day is planned, or aimlessly wandering around, Paris never disappoints me.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-33417852775295694682012-01-03T20:58:00.000+01:002012-01-04T11:47:04.070+01:00Do Bad Things Really Happen in Threes?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I can never determine what time it is or what the weather is like, when I first wake up in the morning.<br />
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Waking early, I popped my head out the window and it was cold and raining. Hopping back into bed with a cup of tea, I pondered how I could keep out of the weather today.<br />
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Remembering, I wanted to venture out of Paris to <a href="http://www.musee-chateau-fontainebleau.fr/Opening-Hours?lang=en">Chateau Fontainebleu</a>, all I had to do was work out how to get there and check my bag was in order for the day.<br />
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The feeling of dread swept over me as I searched for my purse.<br />
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The zippered pocket, of my bag, where I keep my wallet and purse was slightly open but I couldn't fathom how, even an expert thief could have taken my purse and when. I tore my bag and apartment apart, to no avail. I traced my steps, even considered someone entering through my open window as I slept. The last time I used it was at Pigalle. That would seem a likely place, if it was going to go missing. I had a couple of drinks at Le Petit Fer A Cheval, last night and paid for my new mate, Alain's beer but I used my wallet not my change purse. It just didn't add up. <br />
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I didn't want this to ruin my day, it wasn't the wallet, where I keep my notes and credit cards, just my change purse with a wad of metro tickets and change. Still I love the purse and I felt violated.<br />
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Heading off to Gare de Lyon, where trains leave for the likes of Marseille, Lyon and Montpellier is a big bustling place. When I tried to buy my return ticket at the machine, it only took coins or cards. Obviously I didn't have any coins, they were in my missing change purse, so card it had to be.<br />
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When the first machine wouldn't accept my card, something was telling me I should abandon this trip, maybe the missing purse was a bad omen, the beginning of three things.<br />
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Persisting, I moved to the next, it also wouldn't accept my card, I found the counter selling tickets, their bank card system was down. Huh! That explains it.<br />
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Finally on the lovely train, questioning myself if I was sitting in the wrong class, I was now excited and ready for my adventure out of Paris.<br />
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Challenge almost over, now all I had to do was catch the bus to the Chateau, bus 'A' as I researched didn't exist, instead it was bus #1.<br />
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When my stop arrived, the driver called out CHATEAU - the passengers looked around surprised, I jumped up, I think this was for my benefit, so I knew where to get off. <br />
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Knowing I would either be on the metro, on a train or in a museum, I didn't bother to put layers on, sometimes in can be too warm in museums. <br />
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The moment I got off the bus, the bitterly cold, gusty wind was whipping through the city and everyone, including myself had their scarves high and tight, as we braced ourselves against the unforgiving weather.<br />
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Noticing a walled garden, I figured this must be the Chateau, it was! Complete with map and signage.<br />
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For the second time today, my heart sank again. I can never remember random days in French, so I do it in order, like some do, to remember numbers by counting. I start with Monday - Lundi - yes, the next day is Mardi - that is today, Tuesday. Closed Tuesdays. Damn, I laughed out loud, shivering in the cold.<br />
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I am 65 kilometres out of Paris, with what seemed like quite a journey and a missing purse and Fontainebleau is closed on Tuesdays!<br />
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My bones creaking from the cold, I decided I would explore the gardens anyway. Can't put a good girl down! Wow, it was lovely despite the weather and the good thing was, not a soul about. Well I lie - later I did come across the odd tourist, who obviously, also didn't realise that Chateau Fontainebleu is closed on Tuesdays.<br />
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I wandered the streets of the quaint city, had an omelette and a glass of rose wine, braved the weather ... only just - and crammed into a bus like a little sardine, for the journey back to the train station.<br />
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Surfacing from the Metro, back in Paris, freezing as it was, I felt like I was home again. Well I was. Now only a few blocks to my bar for a drink.<br />
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A closed Chateau and a missing purse was not the worse thing that could happen.<br />
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As I stumbled, asking Hussein, the wonderful barman at Petit Fer a Cheval, had he seen ... he finished my sentence. Is it rouge et petit? Yes it is red and small!<br />
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They found my purse on the floor after I left my favourite bar last night and kept it for my return.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-72362589405047297502012-01-02T23:57:00.000+01:002012-01-03T10:01:40.928+01:00Frosty Weather & Warm People<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I calmly encouraged someone to help me pull the maggots from the open wound on my foot. <br />
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My feet must have been aching, even in my sleep, to inspire such a dream.<br />
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Despite the sore feet and bad dream, yesterday's 15km walk, left me wanting more. The sky was blue, the sun was shinning, I left the apartment without my umbrella and a lighter scarf heading from The Marais to Montmartre.<br />
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A glutton for punishment I am, I could have taken the metro but I love walking through the different arrondissements along the way - to notice the changes in each area.<br />
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A walking tour from a travel guide was what I intended to do today. <br />
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When I finally reached Pigalle at the base of Montmartre, dark forbidding clouds hung threateningly from above, without an umbrella and a huge walking plan ahead of me, this did not look good. <br />
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Only moments later the sky opened up and brought down buckets of rain, along with tourists swarming down from the hill of Montmartre, sans umbrella like a plague of wet rats.<br />
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Now armed with my third, umbrella, conveniently snapped up from one of the many souvenir shops that line the streets, I was happy to be fighting the crowds, this time, they were leaving.<br />
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Exhausted and out of breath ascending the hill to Sacre Coeur, the rain eased and the sky gave me a glimmer of sunshine once again, as I reached my favourite spot to photograph the Eiffel Tower.<br />
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In my opinion, not a good decision on the 18th's council, they have allowed Christmas stalls to set up, crowding the already crowded streets around the Sacre Coeur. With the continuing drizzle and chaos it encouraged me to abandon my walking plan, I simply wandered.<br />
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After the rain, the temperature dropped and it was windy and chilly.<br />
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I plonked myself on an outside chair of a brasserie, in the freezing cold, of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Place_du_Tertre">Place du Tertre</a>. Something, I would probably never do.<br />
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Place du Tertre is where the artists hang, in the lovely square, touting, pieces of art and offering to draw your portrait.<br />
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With a glass of Cote de Rhone, watching the passersby, the occasional artist offering to draw my portrait, I sat, content, transfixed, watching the afternoon, slowly turn into night.<br />
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Christiane, a German woman sitting next to me, started up a conversation. She shared her memories of this very same square and me, mine.<br />
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My first visit to Paris, many years ago, an artist offered to capture me, on paper, with his pencil. <br />
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There was not one feature that resembled me but it was the experience and the memory, that still stays with me. When I am in Montmartre, I always stop by the doorway, where a not so good portrait took place.<br />
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With an abandoned plan, some unwanted rain, yet another umbrella, shivering all the way down the steps from Montmartre to<a href="http://www.pigalleparis.fr/"> Pigalle</a> metro, leaving behind me, <a href="http://www.sacre-coeur-montmartre.com/us/index.html">La Basilique du Sacre Coeur de Montmartre</a>, lit up in all its glory.<br />
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I smiled, somethings don't always go to plan but sometimes you happen upon interesting people and do things you wouldn't normally do.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-54387356745057480132012-01-02T00:15:00.000+01:002012-01-02T12:20:54.149+01:00A Surprisingly Wonderful New Years Day in Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Walking around Paris is one of the things I enjoy most about being in this beautiful city. Today, I estimated I walked over 15 kilometres.<br />
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I may not have had a rip roaring New Years Eve but what I did have, was a wonderful, New Years Day full of lovely surprises.<br />
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Being Sunday and particularly, New Years Day with most of Paris in shut down, my plan was to take the metro to the 8th arrondissement and explore <a href="http://www.paris.fr/english/parks-woods-gardens-and-cemeteries/parks/parc-monceau/rub_8213_stand_34242_port_18989">Parc Monceau.</a><br />
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Venturing out, on rue de Rivoli, which is normally heaving with shoppers and tourists, was quiet. <br />
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The air was pleasant, almost too warm for a coat and suddenly, I had a great idea. Walk all the way.<br />
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Past Le Louvre, through <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuileries_Palace">Jardin Tuileries,</a> down the <a href="http://www.champselysees.org/champselysees/">Champs Elysees</a> and then cut my way through to the park. Most revellers from last night would be nursing sore heads and I would have Paris to myself.<br />
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About the same time last year, with snow still on the ground, I gingerly walked through, Jardin Tuileries. There was barely a soul in sight. This year it seemed the whole world had descended upon it. Tourists galore, touts selling mini Eiffel Towers and berets was not the quiet stroll, I expected. <br />
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It seemed, everyone shared my great idea.<br />
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After fighting my way through Jardin Tuileries and by the time I reached Champs Elysee, I wondered if I could bare the crowds any longer.<br />
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Then I took a right turn, in the direction of Parc Monceau and I took a deep breath. <br />
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I left the chaos and entered quiet streets, where everything was closed, hardly any traffic, no people.<br />
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Finally I reached rue Rembrandt, one of the streets that leads into Parc Monceau. Parc Monceau is surrounded by beautiful, opulent, elaborate apartment blocks and mansions, overlooking the lovely park.<br />
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Unlike Jardin Tuileries, the only people in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parc_Monceau">Parc Monceau </a>were local joggers and families enjoying a public holiday in the park. I bought a cup of hot chocolate and strolled the park, admiring the corinthian columns, an arch that once was part of the original Hotel de Ville, a water fall and numerous sculptures recognising various artists, each adorned with their adoring muses!<br />
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After leaving the park, with no set plan, no need to be anywhere, I felt the need to keep wandering around, and so I did.<br />
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Walking in the general direction of home, I happened across the magnificent <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%89glise_Saint-Augustin_de_Paris">Saint Augustin Church</a> with a wonderful Joan of Arc statue out the front. <br />
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I stopped for a much needed coffee and continued on to find a street sign, I wanted to photograph for a friend and found myself on Boulevard Haussmann and Printemps department store. <br />
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The theme for their windows this year; travel.<br />
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Standing together, shoulder to shoulder, with the young and old, trying to find the best vantage point, the windows of Printemps, never disappoint and always surprise and excite me.<br />
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As the light was fading, I stumbled across, the shop of <a href="http://www.champagne-roederer.com/en/flash.html">Louis Roederer</a>, the champagne maker. Just a small thing that put a huge smile on my face. A friend of mine loves their champagne.<br />
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It started drizzling when I came across <a href="http://www.monument-paris.com/leglise-de-la-madeleine.htm">Eglise de la Madeleine</a>, which made for a good excuse to pop in, a service was in process, the organ playing, another perfect surprise.<br />
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I was too close to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Place_Vend%C3%B4me">Place Vendome</a>, not to pass by the expensive square and area that boasts, Jimmy Choos, Chanel and other top brands.<br />
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Finally back on rue de Rivoli, where once again the streets were alive with people.<br />
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Dragging my feet, feeling exhausted, slightly wet and very hungry, in need of food and familiar surroundings, Petit Fer a Cheval, it had to be, my favourite bar in Paris.<br />
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The French don't eat until late and being 6.30pm, plenty of tables were available out the back.<br />
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As the restaurant was filling up and after I had devoured my dinner, I decided to stand at the bar and finish my drink and leave. I needed to get home and blog. Then I met Alain, who was very patient with my bad French.<br />
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We chatted, he bought me drinks and flowers! Tres gentile.<br />
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Exhausted, after a lovely plat de jour, chicken and pureed broccoli, my tired feet only had to take me a couple more streets home. <br />
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Over the road from my apartment is a local store, called Epicure du Marais, which sounds a little more elite than it's name. They sell the usual grocery store items but their prices are less than the normal bigger chains. <br />
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Each night, as I pass by, the owner and I have chatted a little more. Tonight I discovered his name is the same as mine; Adele. This was a pleasant surprise for both of us.<br />
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After buying a bottle of wine and a bottle of water, we said our goodbyes.<br />
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One last surprise for the evening, he took an expensive bottle of wine from the shelf, ripped off the price tag, popped it in a carrier bag and offered it to me with a Bonne Annee - Happy New Year.<br />
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Once again, with a huge smile on my face, clutching my gifts of flowers and a bottle of wine, constantly astounded by the kindness and generosity of the French, I bounced up the stairs to my apartment.<br />
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Bonne Annee, indeed - Happy New Year!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-68753395946070948582011-12-31T20:12:00.001+01:002012-01-01T11:36:44.169+01:00A Window of Faith In Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Christmas and New Year bring out all types of emotions for many. Reflectiveness, sadness, excitement, happiness, but for a guy below my apartment, it makes him want to shout to the world at the top of his lungs. I have no idea what he is saying but it doesn't stop. First Christmas and now New Years Eve. I feel like sticking my head out my open window and telling him to shut the - up.<br />
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He has become another familiar, although unwanted, sound of my neighbourhood. <br />
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Paris was warmer today, due to the rain. The choice of weather has been, bright sunny but absolutely freezing, or warmer 7 degrees and raining. Today it hit a whopping 12 degrees.<br />
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Being New Year's Eve and Saturday, the streets are heaving with people.<br />
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Families dragging along their children, couples rushing with bags of champagne, young revellers, starting early, the Notre Dame seems to be ringing it's bells every half hour and the queues to get in, have nearly blocked off the square.<br />
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I took in a bit of multiculturalism and mix of faiths today, as I did a quick whip around the 5th arrondissement.<br />
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Leaving my apartment on the 3rd arrondissement, it is almost a hop, skip and a jump to L'ile de la Cite and before I know it, I am on the left bank and in the 5th arrondissement.<br />
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I slipped inside from the rain to admire the tiny little church, that is one of the oldest in Paris, St Julien-le-Pauvre.<br />
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Then moved onto the very pretty. gothic, St Severin, as luck would have it, a choir was practicing and later the organ pumped up. Wow - a massive organ with a big sound that added to the atmosphere.<br />
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To escape more rain, I visited the <a href="http://www.musee-moyenage.fr/ang/index.html">Musee National du Moyen Age</a>.<br />
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Then for something completely different, a place I have wanted to visit for some time.<br />
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Institute du Monde Arabe - The Institute of the Arab World.<br />
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A building, on first glance, could have been built last year but was in fact built in 1981. Steel and glass, sitting on the banks of the Seine. Ultra modern it is, harsh elements is has, however there is a gentle calm and beauty about it.<br />
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Nine floors high, although with short ceilings, glass and steel exposed lifts running up through the centre of the building, housing a museum, library and offices, it celebrates Arab nations.<br />
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The appeal of this building for me and the reason I wanted to visit, was the window shutters and the free views.<br />
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The cleverly designed shutters cover the facade of the building. Taking its roots from Arabian design but in a very clever contemporary way. The metal panels, sandwiched between glass, work like an eye or an aperture of a camera, automatically dilate or close up depending on the sunshine.<br />
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There is a reasonably priced restaurant, located on the 9th floor, with a large terrace, where you can take in a birds eye view of the back of the Notre Dame and the Seine.<br />
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By the time I reached the Institute du Monde Arabe, the restaurant was closed in preparation for New Year's Eve celebrations but I had a delicious meal of humous, chicken and tabbouleh, in the cafe on the ground floor. Fitting, considering I was visiting a place that celebrates the Arab World.<br />
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Now back by the Seine, the right bank was beckoning. I decided to cross the river and go home.<br />
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After an organ recital, stained glass windows and a window into the modern Arabian world, a mix of religion and cultures, was what I found in the 5th arrondissement.<br />
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As I pushed my way through the crowds past the Notre Dame, with her bells ringing. I stepped over the other side of the river, to the right bank. It always feels like coming home as I do this, maybe I am just a right bank girl.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-84869502671719080122011-12-30T14:52:00.000+01:002011-12-30T14:52:24.928+01:00A Quiet Village Walk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today I stepped out of Paris and into a quaint little village.<br />
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Well, that is how it felt when I entered Butte-aux-Callies, in the 13th arrondissement of Paris.<br />
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To get there I could have taken the metro but I preferred the <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ll=48.843367,2.355194&spn=0.056713,0.169086&t=m&z=13&vpsrc=6&msa=0&msid=207138920405722403675.0004b54e09aff137b219b">3km walk</a>. Observing how the areas change from one arrondissement to the next, each with their own look, feel and personality.<br />
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Starting from the 3rd, cutting through the centre of I'le Saint- Louis,<br />
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one of the two islands in the centre of Paris, through the 5th on the left bank and finally reaching the big, busy roundabout, that is Place d'Italie.<br />
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In 1543 Butte-aux-Cailles was a vineyard and later a fenced, working class village, overlooking the Bievre River.<br />
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The river now runs underground and fills the local swimming pool and provides water from a well. I watched as locals, lined up with a dozen or so plastic bottles each, filling up from the updated well.<br />
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There is definitely a charming village atmosphere about this area and is no doubt why it is becoming the new trendy area of Paris. <br />
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Getting out of the main busy streets, I discovered quiet cobbled lane ways, with gorgeous, unusual buildings some surrounded by unattractive 1970's concrete apartment blocks.<br />
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Not a tourist or chain store insight. Just locals going about their business, charming independent stores, like a cute little honey shop crammed with wax, various types of honey, candles and all things dedicated to the bee. <br />
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On rue Daviel, is a row of chalet style cottages, known as Little Alsace and yet a stones throw away, is an entire passage of small garden fronted terraces, which almost made me feel like I was in London!<br />
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I can imagine why folk would want to live here, with the quiet village feel, the charming, diverse and unusual housing and yet only a few kilometres away from the vibrant bustling streets of inner Paris. The best of both worlds.<br />
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Rue des Peupliers, is simply beautiful, I had to remind myself I was still in a Parisian suburb.<br />
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An entire block of stone houses, each and everyone different, lush gardens with trees, creepers hanging gracefully over stone walls and smoke wafting out of chimneys.<br />
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This was an area I had been looking forward to visiting and it didn't disappoint.<br />
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The light was fading and the cold air was taking it's toll on my body, it was time to leave the quiet cobbled streets of Butte-aux-Cailles and head home.<br />
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Chatelet Metro was pumping with people and once again I was back in the centre of the vibrant streets of The Marais, just another little piece of Paris.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-65035352091299265002011-12-28T23:50:00.000+01:002011-12-30T11:19:15.633+01:00Hunting Down an Unusual Museum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In a city that doesn't seem to have too many issues wearing fur, decked out in my new fur scarf that has a tail and two feet at either end, I hunted down The Musee de la Chase et de la Nature. The Museum of Hunting & Nature.<br />
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A warning, this may upset some folk.<br />
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In Paris, you can find a museum dedicated to just about anything.<br />
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I have visited many museums in Paris; Le Louvre, D'Orsay, Jacquemart-Andre, Congnacq-Jay, Erotisme, Balzac, Picasco, Pompidou, Rodin, Marmottan Monet, Dali, Nissim de Camondo, Victor Hugo, Romanticism, Orangerie and the list goes on. Now it was time to see what The Musee de la Chase et de la Nature had to offer.<br />
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This strange and curious museum is well thought out. The journey begins with the history of hunting. Interactive pieces of furniture containing slide out drawers with information, binocular type apparatus, where you can peer through, as if you are the hunter yourself, has a certain buzz about it. The guests mostly French families, enjoying their history.<br />
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Rooms and nooks are devoted to certain elements of hunting paraphernalia, ornate decorative pieces, stuffed animals, which are interspersed with quirky pieces that mock.<br />
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The French love their dogs and considering dogs were an integral part of hunting, of course there is a room devoted to the dog. <br />
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A small plush kennel, inconspicuously sits in the corner, art lines the walls of both pet portraits and dogs on the hunt. Elaborate, engraved gold collars fill a glass cabinet and what appeared to be some seriously doggy S & M equipment but is in fact a collar, to protect the dog's throat was also on display.<br />
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One nook displayed, antique decorative china plates, adorned with hunting scenes, ironically, amongst them, were some sweet paper plates that made me giggle.<br />
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The next room, even although, beautifully decorated, antique furniture, cloth wallpaper, an ornate gold encrusted clock, featuring a hunting scene hangs on the wall, I found it quite disturbing.<br />
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Void of people, a large bear, standing to one side, a couple of grotesque porcelain figurines of a hunt - I had to ask myself, is this the present you give to the guy who has everything and hunts.<br />
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As I turned around something caught my eye. <br />
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A fox curled up on an armchair!<br />
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The trophy room, packed with 'trophies', rows of elaborate rifles and guns, some pearl encrusted, was a sight and yet somehow not as confronting as it may appear.<br />
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In a strangely wonderful museum, chairs with antelope horns, trophies of dead animals, plush toys in, what seemed to be, preserved in formaldehyde, giant polar bears, wonderful art and furnishings, all depicting hunting scenes, informative information and contemporary installations made for a very interesting, quirky and different museum experience.<br />
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Even although, not everyone's taste, it is a museum that doesn't take itself too seriously, allows artists to express their views, either for or against and let me peer inside the doors of what was another Parisian home.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-3478374194840773392011-12-28T03:06:00.000+01:002011-12-29T01:21:30.800+01:00Paris is Photogenic, in any Weather<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The temperature plummeted and a blanket of mist hung over the Seine today.<br />
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Heading over to the rive gauche, the left bank, to explore the 6th arrondissement, with the chilly wind whipping around my face and the cold stinging my fingers, I pass the Notre Dame on the way.<br />
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But not before a quick pause. Each and every time I pass, I stand on the pave, before continuing on.<br />
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Legend has it, if you stand on the gold disc, that is embedded into the pavement in front of the Notre Dame, you will return to Paris. <br />
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This has become a ritual for me, to ensure she allows me to come back and visit again.<br />
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As I cut my way through the 4th arrondissement down the bustling, Boulevard Saint Michel, to enter the 6th, where I would spend the day, I found a quiet little passage I was looking for.<br />
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Paris is full of little alley ways, passages and court yards, you just have to be lucky enough to either come across them, or know where they are.<br />
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It was difficult to imagine that only a street away, people were out in the droves, unaware of this quaint, short cut. <br />
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The only noise, some rustling autumn leaves that scared the life out of me. </div>
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Knowing this passageway leads into three private courtyards, I was a little nervous that I might be shooed away.</div>
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Entering through the iron gates into the first courtyard, felt like I was entering a secret world. Not a sound or soul around.<br />
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Now called Cour de Rohan but once, Cour de Rouen, after the archbishops of Rouen who lived here in the 15th century, is a magical little spot.<br />
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The middle courtyard has a three legged, iron mounting block. These were used for older women or overweight people to mount their mules. Apparently it is the only one left in Paris.<br />
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The third and final courtyard leads out to Cour du Commerce St Andre.<br />
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This is where, the world's first coffee house, Le Procope, can be found.<br />
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Last year, I had lunch here and accidentally ordered medium rare kidneys, instead of veal.<br />
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Cours de Commerce, a lovely cobbled street that leads into a covered passage way is where at #9 Dr Guillotin invented the guillotine.<br />
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A girl can't do too much walking around in Paris, in the cold, without a spot of shopping to warm the body and put a bounce in her stride.<br />
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I happened across this fabulous vintage clothes store, Vintage Lili Rose in 40 rue Dauphine, 75006.<br />
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You can't miss the black and pink signage and great window displays. If it is fur you want, they have it. <br />
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Racks of Fur coats, trunks full of fur hats and boxes full of fur scarves. Vintage handbags, gloves hats for both men and women and a lot more.<br />
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I couldn't resist a fur scarf, that seems to have a life of it's own, and keeps wandering around my neck. Maybe it is because it has a tail and feet at both ends! <br />
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The store is organised, unlike a lot of vintage clothes stores, reasonably priced and the girls are lovely and speak English.<br />
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They had some fabulous over the knee boots but I resisted.<br />
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Refreshed after a bit of shopping, I moved along to the oldest church in Paris, St Germain-des Pres, first built in 542 but the current church dates back to the 11th century.<br />
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Feeling a lot warmer, with my new fur scarf and spending quite some time in St Germain des Pres, I braved the chilly wind, once again to see a square that features in a lot of movies.<br />
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Furstenberg Square, where Musee Eugene Delacroix is situated, is a small, charming square, with old street lights.<br />
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Leading off Furstenberg Square, is another quaint, quiet street.<br />
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St Sulpice church, the 2nd largest in Paris after the Notre Dame, and took over a century to build, was my last opportunity to get in from the cold before I ended my day in the 6th Arrondissement at the Luxembourg Gardens and headed home to get ready for a night at the Chatelet Theatre to see The Sound Of Music.<br />
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Despite the near freezing conditions, it didn't stop people strolling around The Luxembourg Gardens. Relaxing on chairs, reading the newspaper, playing tennis as if it was a spring day.<br />
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Joining the flaneurs, I braved the cold, bought a take away hot chocolate from a cart selling hot drinks and took in The Luxembourg Gardens. Very different gardens, to what people see in the summer.<br />
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And the crowd went wild!<br />
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All that walking around in the cold, gave me a healthy appetite, after a wonderful dinner of Cuisse de canard, duck- at my favourite bar, <a href="http://www.cafeine.com/">Le Petit Fer a Cheval</a>, I walked down to the Chatelet Theatre.<br />
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When booking the ticket to the <a href="http://www.chatelet-theatre.com/2011-2012/">Chatelet Theatre</a> to see The Sound Of Music, I didn't realise, until I arrived that I had exactly the same seat as last year when I saw My Fair Lady.<br />
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So close to the stage, on the first balcony. Now, I feel like it is 'my' seat.<br />
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The gorgeous plush gold and red theatre came alive, as the familiar songs from The Sound of Music were performed.<br />
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French audiences are wonderful to be a part of and add to the atmosphere. It doesn't seem to matter whether it is the ballet, a rock concert or a musical, they are there for the ride and show their appreciation.<br />
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After goodness knows how many curtain calls, the orchestra played on and no one was going anywhere. Once again, my hands were stinging, this time not from the cold but from clapping along with the crowd.<br />
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Ray ... a drop of golden sun.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-25447964404610111482011-12-26T02:46:00.000+01:002011-12-26T18:02:04.054+01:00Christmas Dinner At JIms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As luck would have it, Christmas fell on a Sunday this year and that meant Christmas dinner at <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjGAJDO666g">Jim</a>'s.<br />
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As long as it is Sunday, Christmas or not, Jim still opens his home and his heart to anyone who wants to join in on the fun.<br />
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One of <a href="http://www.jim-haynes.com/">Jim Haynes</a> inspirations for his legendary Sunday dinners came about when he rented his first apartment in London. <br />
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His landlady was Sonia Orwell, George Orwell's widow. <br />
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Friday afternoons she would host a cocktail party. In order for Jim to pay his rent, he waited on her famous guests.<br />
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From the moment I entered Jim's apartment and I spotted him, in his usual position by the stove, perched upon his stool, apron on, crossing off the list of guests as they arrive, he wanted to introduce me to a lovely lady from Adelaide.<br />
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During our conversation, I learned how her and her husband came to be in Paris. </div>
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With a big smile and her face aglow, she said she had never been to Europe. One day, driving past a travel store, she stopped, entered and on impulse, bought two tickets for Rome, Paris, London and New York.</div>
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Later that day, she presented her husband with the surprise. </div>
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Even although it was their first Christmas in Paris, somehow, I don't think it will be their last. Paris has just touched another couple of hearts. Such a lovely couple and a pleasure to meet.</div>
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When <a href="http://www.jim-haynes.com/book/index.htm">Jim</a> introduced a beautiful Filipino girl to a handsome Mexican man, who had both recently moved to Paris, I wondered if this was a coincidental pairing on Jim's part, or perhaps a little match-making!</div>
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In the past, Jim has commented, marriages and babies have resulted from introductions at his famous dinners.</div>
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Haynes">Jim Haynes</a> is all about connecting people. Tonight he also introduced me to a delightful woman and her sister from New Zealand. They had just arrived from a tour of Prague and now dining at Jim's in Paris. It is wonderful to learn stories about people and why and where they travel.</div>
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Even although tonight was a smaller crowd than usual. The fifty guests, standing shoulder to shoulder, dining on vegetable soup, chicken pie, salad and dessert, with drinks flowing and the conversation varied, the volume was high. Maybe because it was Christmas.<br />
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This was my fourth dinner at Jim's, for some their first and others, a return visit after 20 years.<br />
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If people have the opportunity, they generally come back for more, mostly to meet the kind, warm hearted man with a <a href="http://www.jim-haynes.com/life/index.htm">fascinating background</a> who has allowed guests from around the world to enter his private home and meet other interesting people.<br />
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Moving about the room, I met people from America, Mexico, Australia, Ireland to name a few. I could hear Jim's familiar voice calling in the background; Glen have you met Eduardo, ensuring by the time we left at the mandatory 11pm, everyone had met one another.<br />
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As the night draws to a close, everyone wants a photo with Jim. He sits smiling, photo after photo and directing people to a wad of paper and a jar full of pens, so they can stay in touch. <br />
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Watching people connecting, just the way he intends it to be. His job is nearly done for another Sunday night's dinner.</div>
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I enjoy everytime I visit Jim and attend his dinners, but tonight, was made even more special, as it was Christmas.<br />
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To think, this is one of my favourite secrets in Paris, is silly - it isn't much of a secret when 70 odd people have been turning up every Sunday for the past 30 odd years.<br />
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Previous posts on Jim's dinners below, make sure you <a href="http://www.jim-haynes.com/contact/index.php">book</a> or you will be disappointed.<br />
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<a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/01/dinner-at-jims-place.html">My First Dinner at Jim's</a><br />
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<a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/01/cruise-on-seine.html">My Second Dinner at Jim's</a><br />
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<a href="http://parisadele.blogspot.com/2011/12/sunday-dinner-at-jim-haynes.html">My Third Dinner at Jim's</a><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-36796496916331874552011-12-25T04:39:00.001+01:002011-12-25T17:23:40.500+01:00Christmas Eve In Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I surfaced from the Guimard designed Eglise d'Auteuil metro station, there was a sense of serenity, a gentle hum, unlike the bustling crowds of Le Marais.<br />
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The Auteuil quarter, in the westernmost part of Paris, a former town, between the Seine and the Bois de Boulogne, is now a part of Paris.<br />
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Rue d'Auteuil, was the town's main street and has a village like atmosphere, as I strolled along, observing well heeled shoppers, buying up last minute Christmas supplies.<br />
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In an area where Marcel Proust was born, Moliere lived, luxury villas that were built on the former country estate of Comtesse de Boufflers and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hector_Guimard">Hector Guimard's</a> beautiful decorative architecture can be savoured, there is plenty to absorb and admire. <br />
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Happening across some of the buildings, I actually found myself gasping out loud. Especially Guimard's Castel Beranger building.<br />
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Rue la Fontaine, is an architects dream.<br />
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Disappointed that Rue la Fontaine finally came to an end, I turned right and headed for Pont de Grenelle.<br />
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Standing on Pont de Grenelle, if you look left you can see the Eiffel Tower and right, a replica of the Statue of Liberty, as if it was emerging from the Seine.<br />
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Heading back to the quiet streets of the Auteuil and down rue de l'Assomption, more bourgeois apartment buildings are to be found.<br />
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My walk was coming to a close but not before a little surprise. At the end of Rue du Docteur Blanche is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Corbusier">Le Corbusier's</a> Villa Roche. Built in 1923 and way ahead of it's time.<br />
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I was asked to put little plastic booties over my shoes and allowed to wander around the spacious ultra modern villa. With bright open spaces, large voids and curving lines, it seemed almost incomprehensible that it was built so long ago.<br />
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One last piece of fine architecture to observe before I left the beautiful, charming area of The Auteuil.<br />
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As fate would have it, I ended up on the wrong metro line and decided to get off at Bastille and take a chance to see if my favourite food market, <a href="http://marchedaligre.free.fr/">Marche d'Aligre</a> was open in the late afternoon of Christmas Eve.<br />
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Thankfully it was. There is a certain cheerful, friendly air about this market maybe that is why I love it so much, or maybe it is the fabulous food on offer, probably both. <br />
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When I bought some roast pork for one, the butcher offered, I could buy for two and have him over for dinner!<br />
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Armed with a slab of fresh butter, goats cheese, potato gratin and roast pork for one, I rushed back to the metro. I needed to get back to the apartment and get ready for the Ballet at the Palais Garnier.<br />
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As I scurried down the street, a familiar face lit up. Chere, he calls out. The homeless man, who I met last year, was sitting at his usual post, now on a new, bright and shiny silver chair. Looking a little worse for wear, braving the winter elements, he still managed to have a cheery disposition. <br />
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He cheekily offered I buy a bottle of champagne and have a Christmas drink with him. <br />
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Apres - later, I said, as he so often called out to me last year. He kissed my hands and wished me a Happy Christmas, as I headed on my way.<br />
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How to finish off a wonderful day? Ballet at the <a href="http://www.operadeparis.fr/">Palais Garnier</a>.<br />
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Palais Garnier, probably the most famous opera house in the world, oozes opulence and history.<br />
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Initiated by Emperor Napoleon III, an architectural competition, won by Charles Garnier, where it takes it name, overseen by Baron Haussmann, the setting for The Hunchback of Notre Dame and seating 1979 people, is a sight to be seen and an experience to be had.<br />
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When I booked the ticket, I chose a balcony seat. What I didn't know, it was in a box. A gorgeous, plush, red velvet box with magnificent views.<br />
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As I strolled around Palais Garnier, taking in the surrounds, observing, men in suits and beautiful women in lovely gowns, sipping on champagne, I was in awe.<br />
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The magnificent 7 ton, crystal chandelier, also designed by Garnier and costing 30,000 gold francs, at the time, is set high above, hanging from the spectacular ceiling. I couldn't help but wonder, how they change the light bulbs!<br />
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The bill was Onegin, the night was superb.<br />
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Pierre kindly offered to meet me for dinner after the ballet.<br />
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It seemed surreal, to have to line up for dinner at 11.30pm on Christmas Eve but that is what we did. <br />
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<a href="http://www.legrandcafe.com/">Le Grand Cafe Capucines</a>, just around the corner from the Palais Garnier was jammed packed with diners.<br />
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Finally, once we were seated, we dined on a hot bowl of soupe de poisson, a massive piece of magret de canard and fine French wine.<br />
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What a way to finish off Christmas Eve in Paris and see in, Christmas morning.<br />
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Indeed.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-26088947265008495092011-12-24T09:05:00.000+01:002011-12-25T12:28:56.387+01:00Le Louvre<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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About 26 years ago, Paris was up in arms. There was talk of building a pyramid in the main courtyard of Le Louvre. <br />
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Now I M Pei's creation is a reality and has become another iconic landmark in Paris.<br />
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When the Pyramid was a mere conception, that was the last time I visited Le Louvre.<br />
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The sneaky entrance, via the shopping centre at Carousel de Louvre, with no lining up, should have been my choice.<br />
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However, this was my first visit via the Pyramid, the queue was long, albeit, fast moving and this was something I had to do. <br />
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Below the Pyramid, the place was swarming with people, like trails of ants heading in all different directions. To begin with, it was overwhelming but later I realised, much more organised than all those years ago.<br />
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Information desk, cloak room, restaurants and a machine to purchase your own tickets. The attendants are friendly and multilingual.<br />
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Gone are the days of lining up for hours on end.<br />
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The Louvre is not far from where I am staying, so I walked along the river, catching my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower along the way.<br />
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When I came across one of my favourite bridges in Paris, Pont des Arts, I couldn't resist a quick detour.<br />
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I was curious to see if the beautiful hand made timber padlock, from last year, was still there. <br />
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I couldn't find it, I suppose after a year, the council had to remove it. I wonder if they save some of the panels, laden with padlocks, pledging their love and one day, we will see them in Le Louvre, or perhaps the Pompidou, as a piece of history.<br />
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Despite the crowds, in Le Louvre, as luck would have it, I found myself in spaces completely void of people.<br />
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That was until, I came across the room with Mona Lisa. She has moved to a larger space, since I was there last and is now set behind glass. Guards flanking either side of her, cameras with flashes were going off, left, right and centre.<br />
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It makes me wonder, if the Mona Lisa that is hanging on the wall in the Louvre is the genuine article or a copy. If not, why do the guards allow people to use a flash to photograph this famous painting, when you can't use a flash elsewhere in the museum?<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Ary Sheffers, painting, Ghosts of Paolo and Francesca Appear to Dante and Virgil, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"></span>was what I was intrigued to see. I fell in love with this painting in London, at the Wallace Collection. I later discovered he painted at least two versions of this piece. I did wonder about the scar on Francesca's shoulder. My memory was it was a cut, in this version it is a scar or blemish. <br />
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It was nice to see this painting, after recently visiting his home, which is now the <a href="http://www.paris.fr/loisirs/musees-expos/musee-de-la-vie-romantique/p5851">Musee de la Vie Romantique</a>. <br />
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Napoleon III apartments are sumptuous and I don't remember this from 26 years ago. Maybe they were not on display then. Absolutely jaw dropping.<br />
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The sculpture room was one of my favourites and and still is. Sculptures always fascinate me. <br />
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Bronze and marble are such hard and harsh materials, yet can be transformed into something so beautiful, delicate, detailed and gentle.<br />
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I still prefer Le Musee d'Orsay, of course they have different works of art. I find the layout, of Musee d'Orsay is easier to get around, where the Le Louvre, I still find a maze.<br />
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This was something I had to do, after all of those years, it has certainly changed. <br />
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Shopping was definitely not an option, unless you wanted to buy some postcards, tacky memorabilia or a book on Le Louvre. <br />
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These days you are released from the museum and confronted with Starbucks, an Apple store amongst others and Virgin, where I bought three new CD's and went on my happy way.<br />
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Five hours in one museum, was all my feet and brain could take. I strolled back to my apartment and listened to some new music.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-69721595172079133102011-12-22T19:02:00.001+01:002011-12-24T08:24:19.145+01:00Three Books and a Funeral<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Three of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Whitman">George Whitman's</a> favourite books were offered to mourners, as they filed out from the chapel, after his service.<br />
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The Idiot, Don Quixote and Leaves of Grass.<br />
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A man, who clearly loved literature and shared it with so many. He no doubt, would have wanted it this way, a parting gift.<br />
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By the time I arrived, there was standing room only. Of course <a href="http://www.jim-haynes.com/">Jim Haynes</a> was there and Jeanette Winterson made for a great introduction.<br />
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As we entered the chapel, each of us was presented with a long stemmed, white rose.<br />
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Later, we placed them upon his coffin.<br />
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A beautiful service, where family and friends spoke in Mr Whitman's honour. Mentioning the 'tumbleweeds' as they were known. Struggling writers who were offered free accommodation in his rooms above Shakespeare and Company, the iconic bookstore in Paris.<br />
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When his beautiful daughter, Syliva, reminisced, she painted a picture of the man, her father, bookseller, bohemian, traveller of the world and lover of literature. One could not mention him, without including Shakespeare and Company in the same sentence, it was his life.<br />
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He devoured books and encouraged as many as he could, to do so also, sharing his passion with all he came into contact with. <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span">One anecdote</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> Sylvia presented, filled the chapel with laughter.</span></div>
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A shopper entered the store, George Whitman asked the customer, if he could look after the store for 10 minutes or so and showed him where the cash box was. <br />
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George returned 8 hours later!</div>
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It is only fitting, his final resting place, a man whose life was words, books and literature, is amongst some of the greats. Oscar Wilde, Balzac and Colette, to name a few, at Pere Lachaise.<br />
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Before we left the chapel, everyone joined in, as we sang - You Are My Sunshine.<br />
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After the service, I decided I would visit Oscar Wilde's grave. <br />
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I couldn't find it. Just as I was about to give up, an attendant arrived in a vehicle, I asked him if I was heading in the right direction<br />
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20 kilometres I understood, I know the cemterary is big, it was getting cold and dark. I have been lost here before, that could not be possible. Paris in only 10 kilometres long.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span">My shoulders dropped and he noticed my disappointment. Get in the car he said and I was chauffeur</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> driven around the avenues of Pere Laichase Cemetery. Once again surprised with the kindness and generosity of the French.</span><br />
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Delivered directly in front on Oscar Wilde's lipstick kissed grave.<br />
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The council has had to put a glass barrier in front of the grave, in an effort to protect it with so many lipstick kisses, placed upon his tomb. Now fans must kiss the glass!<br />
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As I slowly wandered out of the cemetery, a Shakespeare and Company bag, swinging on my arm with a copy of one of George Whitman's favourite books, The Idiot, I had a gentle smile on my face.<br />
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I stood on the platform, reading the opening pages, my connecting stop was <a href="http://www.google.fr/search?q=arts+and+metiers+metro&hl=fr&client=safari&rls=en&prmd=imvns&source=lnms&tbm=isch&ei=R_T0Tr3tDJLZ8gPomf3KAQ&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&cd=2&ved=0CB4Q_AUoAQ&biw=1366&bih=615">Arts & Metiers metro stop.</a><br />
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I have always wanted to stop at this beautiful station and photograph it but I was always in a hurry to get somewhere.<br />
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Today, I decided, life is too short. I sat at Arts et Metiers, train after train, trying to get that picture, I have always wanted to. Next time I will need a tripod!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185177377830863875.post-625445732665577232011-12-22T04:25:00.000+01:002011-12-23T11:08:23.731+01:00The 9th Arrondissement<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The 9th arrondissement is mostly, a pretty swanky part of Paris, at the base of Montmartre. It encompases, the <a href="http://www.operadeparis.fr/en/L_Opera/Palais_Garnier/PalaisGarnier.php">Palais Garnier</a>, the Opera House, Boulevard Haussmann, Galleries La Fayette and some seriously good food shops.<br />
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Feeling like a kid in a candy shop, walking across one side of the street to the other, peering through the windows of sumptuous speciality shops. Cakes, cheese, one specialising in products from Auvergne, it went on.<br />
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My main reason for heading over to the 9th today, was to visit <a href="http://www.paris.fr/loisirs/musees-expos/musee-de-la-vie-romantique/p5851">Musee de la Vie Romantique.</a><br />
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One of the things I love about Paris, is you just don't know what surprises are hidden behind a gate or doorway.<br />
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The green gateway of Musee de la Vie Romantique, is inconspicuous, in fact, I walked past it the first time. A lovely cobbled, lane way beyond leads to a house that once had such guests as; George Sands and her lover, Chopin. <br />
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There are over 200 pieces, George Sand's granddaughter, donated to the city of Paris, which are in this museum.<br />
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My plan was mapped out like this; admire the streets of the 9th arrondissement, with a detour to Eglise de la Saint Trinte. It was closed for renovations.<br />
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Then on to Musee de la Vie Romantique, Musee Gustav Moreau and then a spot of shopping at Galleries La Fayette, considering I was in the area.<br />
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Of course, nothing ever seems to go to plan.<br />
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When I arrived at the Musee de la Vie Romantique, I am asked if I would like to visit the temporary exhibition, which they have two each year, or the free permanent exhibition.<br />
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The free permanent exhibition and an audio guide was what I wanted. I enjoy audio guides, they are informative and I can move about at my own pace and listen to whatever takes my interest.<br />
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The audio guide was not available, so I had to make do on my own. Disappointed, I entered the lovely house. The door man wants my ticket but I explain, first in French, there is no ticket, it is free, I only want to see the permanent exhibition.<br />
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He insists I must have a ticket. Raising his voice he demands I speak in English. Ok my French isn't that good but I thought this was a bit harsh. <br />
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You walked straight past the ticket office he accuses, no I didn't, I went into the ticket office and asked for an audio guide, there wasn't one and she didn't give me a ticket.<br />
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He won't let me in without a ticket. Completely confused, I go back to the ticket office, she doesn't understand why I want a ticket, if I only want to visit the free exhibition! <br />
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She finds someone who speaks English; it turns out the lady, who is normally behind the counter is on lunch, she is the only one who knows how to issue tickets and audio guides. They send me back to the museum empty handed. <br />
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Terrified of the door guard, I approach again. There are no tickets, the madame is on lunch. He puffs up his cheeks and blows out a puh and grudgingly allows me in.<br />
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So much for a quick, uneventful visit!<br />
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Feeling quite flustered, I start my journey of the museum. <br />
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To avoid smashing the glass cabinet with the camera around my neck, I hang it on my back so I can lean forward and observe George Sand's hair, in a large locket. <br />
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Next I am in trouble for not wearing my camera the right way. Ok, I am over it. I will come back when madame has finished her lunch, with an audio guide and a ticket! <br />
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There is no need for an audio guide he tells me, really I just want to be away from this guy. <br />
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I explain, I have come a long way to see this museum and I would like to do it properly. I will return after 1pm! Puh! to him.<br />
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So I headed around the corner to <a href="http://www.musee-moreau.fr/homes/home_id24292_u1l2.htm">Musee Gustav Moreau</a>, the French symbolist painter. <br />
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By the time I entered, it was 12.15.<br />
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We close at 12.30 for lunch the lady informs me but I can buy my ticket look around for 15 minutes and come back after lunch!<br />
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Yes I love Paris, yes I love the food and the way the French love their food but did everyone have to have lunch when I had a plan! I guess so.<br />
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After a 15 minute whip around we are asked to leave the museum.<br />
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I wander the streets of the 9th arrondissement until Madame has finished savouring her lunch and head back to Musee de la Vie Romantique, the temporary counter woman recognises me, shows me to a seat in the reception area and promises 5 minutes to go until Madame returns.<br />
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Armed with audio guide and free ticket, I venture back to the lovely house. I am relieved to discover, a changing of guards.<br />
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Finally, I am able to view the wonderful collection without Monsieur, breathing down my neck.<br />
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Apart from art work and sculptures. There is a vast collection of George Sand's artefacts and jewellery. For a woman who was quite masculine, dressing in mens clothes, she had some very beautiful jewellery. <br />
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The museum also has a plaster cast of George Sand's tiny, delicate hand and also a cast from Chopin, that was made minutes after his death. <br />
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They both had such tiny hands, my hands looked massive in comparison, as I hovered mine over theirs.<br />
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By the time I had finished up at <a href="http://www.paris.fr/loisirs/musees-expos/musee-de-la-vie-romantique/p5851">Musee de la Vie Romantique</a>, the staff of Musee Gustav Moreau, should have finished their lunch, but no, I still had to wait another 5 minutes in the rain.<br />
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The doors opened and once again, I was allowed to gain entry.<br />
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The good thing about doing research before I visit somewhere, is having knowledge about the little secrets. I had read somewhere, that the wonderful secret in Musee Gustav Moreau, is to look out for more work, behind curtains.<br />
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The museum has hundreds of his drawings and sketches, in a series of glass doors, behind a curtain. You are allowed, to pull back the curtains and open the doors, which each bank would have about 15 doors. Very clever. <br />
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As I did this, other people in the museum observed and before I knew it, all the curtains and doors were opened up, with people squatting on stools, looking at the hidden treasures.<br />
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After very strange but wonderful museum experiences, it was time to hit the shops.<br />
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I have been looking forward to see what <a href="http://www.galerieslafayette.com/">Galleries La Fayette</a> had done with their Christmas windows this year. <br />
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Behind the squealing children, looking in awe, their faces pressed to the windows, on the specially designed viewing platform, the Christmas shoppers and tourists were at least 10 deep behind them.<br />
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This year's theme is Rock Concerts. How apt, that I had just attended my first rock concert in Paris.<br />
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New clothes purchased, including not one but two pairs of shoes and a box of Pierre Herme macarons, it was time to make a bee-line back to the apartment, to get ready for my dinner date with Pierre.<br />
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<a href="http://www.chez-jenny.com/">Chez Jenny</a>, a vast, bustling, 24/7, Alsatian Brasserie, was a venue date made with Pierre, 12 months ago. <br />
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Finally the day was here. Pierre, was fashionably late but it gave me time to have a glass of wine and observe the playful waiters in the ancient Brasserie.<br />
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There was no question, the reason for us dining here, was to have <a href="http://www.google.fr/search?q=choucroute&hl=fr&client=safari&rls=en&prmd=imvns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=33PzTq-XHMK08QP0-7SnAQ&sqi=2&ved=0CDMQsAQ&biw=1366&bih=612">choucroute</a>, and that is what we had.<br />
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Knuckles of pork, one normal, one caramelised, served with sauerkraut and potatoes, a speciality of the house.<br />
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After a wonderful night of French and English, good food and company, I declined Pierres offer, to drive me home. I wanted to stroll back to my apartment and take in the quiet night streets of Paris.<br />
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My favourite bar, <a href="http://www.cafeine.com/">Le Petit fer a Cheval</a> was on the way. <br />
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I popped in for a nightcap. A bar which is normally packed to the rafters with people, was quiet and gave me an opportunity to have a good chat with my friend Bouba.<br />
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What a lovely way to end the day.<br />
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Walking behind lovers, holding hands, stopping for a kiss, along the way, in the slightly drizzling rain, I pondered; <br />
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with all it's little quirks and odd ways, no matter what, you just got to love Paris.<br />
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